


Runaway Bride

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the ceremony, the happy couple and their photographer depart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway Bride

**Author's Note:**

> From a [Genremixer](http://zombierom.com/genremixer/) prompt:
>
>> Polly Wright & Jamie McCrimmon - Marriage of convenience & Noodle incident

Under normal circumstances, the entrance to the Chapel of the Meadows was a discreet, unobtrusive presence in the Queen Doris Shopping Centre. Compared to the gaudy shops on either side, the simple archway, flanked by stained-glass panels and bearing the legend CREDO ELVEM IPSUM VIVERE, was a model of restraint. 

These were certainly not normal circumstances. 

As the fire alarms wailed and the distant sounds of panicking shoppers receded, the curtain of black smoke belching out of the archway swirled and disgorged three figures. Ben Jackson led the way. He was dressed in a formal black jumpsuit, with a broad white stripe down its front. In his right hand he held what had once been an aluminium tripod, bent and battered beyond any possible repair. Behind him, Polly emerged coughing from the smoke, her eyes streaming. She was wearing an elaborate dress seemingly composed, in equal proportions, of silk and bubblewrap, whose original colour had been white. Bringing up the rear was Jamie, with a bent candlestick in one hand, and wearing a particularly florid interpretation of Highland dress. The dark fabric of his coat contrasted with the splashes of lace at the collar and cuffs, the bright yellow of his kilt, and the profusion of silver buckles in more places than it was reasonable to expect buckles to be. All three costumes, while no doubt originally expensive, were by now sadly besmirched with soot and unidentifiable green slime. 

Jamie glanced around as he cleared the edge of the smoke cloud. "What's the quickest way out of here?" he asked. 

"We came in that way," Ben said, pointing. 

"I ken that, but it was quite a walk. Maybe there's another way out that's closer." 

Polly shook her head. "I don't know. But maybe if we looked on one of those infoterminals..." 

"No!" Jamie and Ben chorused, firmly. 

"We're in a hurry, Duchess," Ben added firmly. "Let you on one of those things again and we'd be here all night — or until the rozzers found us." 

As if to amplify his point, he started walking, heading for the entrance by which, some hours previously, they'd arrived at the mall. 

"Oh, I know, but it's all so interesting." Polly hurried after him. "It's the culmination of everything Professor Brett was working towards. All the information in the world at your fingertips. Doesn't that excite you?" 

"You can't trust anything a computer tells you." 

"That wasnae what you said when you saw that article about those lassies on the beach," Jamie said. 

"You keep out of this, mate," Ben said, without heat. "I didn't notice you complaining." 

Polly gave them both a look of withering contempt. "Typical men, both of you. Give you access to the sum of human knowledge, and you use it to look for pictures of girls in swimsuits. If I hadn't been with you, you'd still be there now." 

"If you'd not been with us we wouldn't have used yon termi-thing in the first place," Jamie retorted. 

"Which means we'd never have tracked down those lizard... beetle... things, would we? And then where would we be?" 

"Back at the TARDIS, most likely, and no-one any the wiser." 

"And those creatures would still be stealing people's identities." Polly shook her head. "Whatever that means." 

"You saw what it means," Ben pointed out. "That registrar. He was a lizard-thing in a suit made to look like a bloke. He must have copied it off a real person." 

"D'ye think he ate the real person?" Jamie suggested. 

"Could be. Nah, you're right, Duchess. They'd got to be stopped. That's what the Doctor would have done." 

Polly glanced at her ruined dress. "I think I'm beginning to see why the Doctor never wears anything nice, too. I can't wait to get out of this." 

"'Course you can't," Ben replied, with what might have been a touch of malevolence. "Blushing bride like you, you can't wait to spend some time with your new husband, can you? Jamie's a lucky man." 

"Ben!" Polly protested. 

"Now just a minute," Jamie said. "You said it wasn't a proper wedding anyway." 

"It wasn't," Polly said firmly. "I told you: it doesn't count if you give a false name — Mr Herbert Donovan. And that man taking the service... well, I'm sure he wasn't a _real_ Elvis impersonator." 

Ben scratched his head. "How can someone not be a real impersonator? I mean, I suppose he didn't look much like him, but you could see who he was trying to be." 

"I meant maybe he wasn't a person at all." 

"Another one of those beasties?" Jamie suggested. "Maybe that's why he was so fat. You know, so he'd fit in the suit." 

"Or the same one. We never actually saw him and the registrar together, did we?" Polly glanced around. "Is that a fire exit?" 

Jamie hurried across to the door she'd indicated, and gave it an experimental shove. "Aye, but I think it's jammed or something." He pushed it again, harder. "Give me a moment and I'll have it open." 

"D'you need a hand, mate?" Ben asked. 

"No, there's only room for one here. Creag an tuire!" The last words were uttered through clenched teeth, as Jamie applied himself once again to the recalcitrant door. 

"Ben," Polly said, in a low voice. "Are you all right? You've been in a bad mood all afternoon." 

"What? Nothing wrong with me." 

"Don't be silly, Ben. Is it because I was getting — well, sort of married but not really?" 

Ben bit his lip, and avoided her eyes. 

"If you wanted to be Mr Donovan, you should have said," Polly went on. "I'm sure Jamie wouldn't have minded being the photographer. Especially when all you ended up doing with that poor camera was bashing aliens with it. Why didn't you say something?" 

Ben looked up, feeling his face reddening. "What if you'd said no? I couldn't—" 

A scream of tortured metal, a final clang, and a cry of triumph from Jamie announced that the fire exit was open. In the same moment, the sound of shouting and running feet could be heard from the direction of the chapel. Ben wasn't sure whose footsteps or shouts they were, but he was certain that they didn't want to be there when the owners arrived. 

"Come on," he said, catching hold of Polly's hand. "Let's get out of here." 

They hurried through the door, emerging in what Ben supposed was the futuristic equivalent of a loading bay: a cul-de-sac, edged with windowless brick walls, their only openings covered by steel shutters. 

"Now we'd better run," Jamie said. 

"Where to?" Polly asked. 

Jamie grinned. "Anywhere that isn't here." 

They ran through the grim service areas at the rear of the mall, all too aware of the hurrying feet behind. 

"Hey!" Polly stopped sharply and waved her hand. "Taxi!" 

Several bulbous cars, seemingly made almost entirely of glass, had been parked quietly in the shadow of a concrete ramp. One of them glided in their direction, and stopped beside them; a door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. The interior of the car was completely empty. 

The trio piled in. None of the conventional controls was visible, only a small, colourful screen displaying a map, over which a list of options was superimposed. More or less at random, Polly poked at the screen until the door closed, and the car began to accelerate. 

"Hang on," Ben said. "How d'you do that? And who's driving this thing, anyway?" 

"It was one of the things I saw on the infoterminal. Driverless taxis." Polly nodded at the controls. "There's a computer somewhere in there that knows where to go." 

"And where's that?" 

"No idea, I'm afraid." 

Jamie was clutching his seat, looking slightly pale. "This is worse than the TARDIS." 

"You're right there, mate," Ben said. "These people let computers drive them around? What if they turn out like WOTAN?" 

"If the taxis tried to kidnap people, people wouldn't use them, would they?" Polly replied, reasonably. 

"So how come you don't know where we're going?" Jamie asked. 

"Well, I was in a hurry, and I don't know this city." She gave the screen another look. "Apparently we're going to 'Somersknott', wherever that is. Maybe it's a tourist attraction... or the council tip." 

"I suppose a wedding reception'd be too much to hope for," Ben said. 

"If it was, you'd have to make a speech." 

"Oh, I'd find something to say. And I could do with a bite. Haven't had anything since breakfast." 

"We'll have to see if we can pick up a snack somewhere." Polly patted her stomach. "Now you mention it, I wouldn't say no to a bacon sandwich." 

"No wedding cake, then?" Jamie asked. 

Polly shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Jamie. After all, you can't expect everything to end with a cake."


End file.
